The Bet that started it All
by Invader Tay
Summary: Congratulations! You, yes you, get to witness how one drunken bet led me on a quest of stupid match making, that involved one tomato bastard, and one ill kept secret that, despite my efforts, got out in the end anyway. Oh, how I hate my life. -Romano
1. Prologue

Why is it illegal to murder your siblings?

Even when they deserve it for being god damned know it all's?

I mean honestly, he excels at everything he turns his hand to.

Art, science, math, economics, language, _religion, _you name it and Feliciano can probably do it. Not to mention his _sparkling _personality.

Meanwhile I'm all antisocially alone over here in Uselessville, and my one unique trait, minus my organized underground, um, '_business' _dealings, has been upstaged once again.

That one and only thing was Spanish.

I thought it was specific to my region, but oh, no. It's apparently not anymore. Earlier this evening Feliciano came bouncing into my room like he owned the place, which he sort of does, but I live here too damnit! That doesn't mean he can flounce into my room whenever he wants to!

I was doing some Spanish homework when he came over, so I was fully absorbed in doing that and didn't notice him until it was too late.

And I was just using the high school text books because they are really helpful, don't let him tell you otherwise. I'm not a child anymore!

Anyway here comes my stupid air headed brother, skipping over to my desk to see what I was up to. I told him to get lost but he just started giggling and said he couldn't get lost in his own home. He then picked up my level _**five**_ Spanish book and read it like it was printed in fucking _Italian. _

Or English, the bastard knows both.

What really sealed the shitty deal was the fact that I've been trying to learn that damn language since I was a child back in the, like, twelve hundreds or something? And now completely out of the blue, Feliciano can read and speak it like it's no problem.

On top of all that he burst into tears once I yelled at him for being a know it all.

It will forever baffle me as to how he can get people to go from raging mad to feeling completely sorry for him in under three minutes. I mean, I get how it works on the potato bastard, but that's only because the two are- _**GAH**_! _Sleeping together. _

Lord almighty, I need to go bleach my brain.

Feliciano (the airhead) didn't even have the nerve to tell me. I found out the hard way when I came downstairs one morning to find a shirtless Kraut in my kitchen making coffee for my presumably stark naked little brother.

Why must I be cursed with a photographic memory?!

I'll never be able to unsee his boxers!

Oh yeah, I should probably introduce myself.

Hell-fucking-o, I'm the personification of Southern Italy, more commonly known as Romano, or Don Roma, or Lovino, or Lovi, but under **NO** circumstances may you call me that! I like tomatoes, my brother (half the time), the beach, pizza, guns, and anything Italian.

I hate pretty much everything else.

My life has never been a walk in the park, but this current dumb assed quest I'm on really takes the cake.

Note to self, never, _**ever, **_go drinking with Englishmen, as they get super inebriated and then dare you to do stupid things.

For example;

Trying to find a way to set up your very oblivious (no really, he has the romantic insight of a doormat) former caretaker with a cute girl.

Sounds easy right? **BUT**, before you can even get to that stage, you've got to somehow dodge your brother's idiotic interfering and the extreme retardness of the other two members of the Dipshit Trio.

On top of that you have to balance all your national and Mob duties, while trying to keep a certain Kraut out of your brother's pants and your own home!

_But wait_, there's more!

If I don't set the tomato bastard up in the span of a month Sir Eyebrows is going to completely and utterly wreck my life. How? Apparently when I get drunk I blab all sorts of things, and now England is in possession of a secret that I'd rather everyone not know.

On a side note;

I'm convinced the universe is out to get me.

* * *

_Review please~!_

_I've been meaning to go something like this for awhile now. Out of all the Hetalia characters, I'm the most like Romano, so I've been dying to write for him. _

_This just came into my head a few days ago...I'm not even sure when I'll get more up, but until then, keep guessing on what that secret is ;)_

_~Anna_


	2. Chapter 1

_**December 17th, 2012**_

* * *

This quest of dip-shittery began early one Sunday morning during the haze of a massive hangover.

For starters, I'd like to put it out there that I don't get drunk that easily…

Okay fine! I do!

But I'm a hell of a lot better than Feliciano! You give him one drink and he goes flying off the handle into a hysterical fit of giggles. Not that it mattered who was the better drunk, because at the moment, I was nursing one of the worst headaches I'd ever had in my entire life.

Last time I checked my clock it said it was around noon, so I had absolutely _no _hope that this would wear off soon. This was also compounded by the fact that I remembered **nothing **from last night. What the hell had even happened after the meeting anyway?

Blurry images were floating around my head, but I couldn't make sense of any of them. The one thing that kept cropping up was France with a non-surprising lack of clothes and a cactus…

In any event, I had no idea if those two items were related to each other or not…Well, there was only one way to know what had really happened.

I poked my head out from underneath my blanket cocoon. Sunlight was streaming in from the windows and it hurt my eyes to look at it, so much in fact, that I was considering going back under the covers to huddle it out in misery.

_But_, I decided against it as there were more pressing matters at hand.

Like; whether or not France had sex with a cactus or something else last night, because there was no way that a naked France would lead to anything other than sex.

Or perhaps other pieces of wonderfully black mail-able things that Hungary was sure to have captured with her ever handy Polaroid camera.

And there was only one place where all this information would be stored, shared, and documented:

Facebook.

Now all I needed to do before hitting the jackpot of leverage was locate my laptop, which was a significant feat in of itself. To put it politely, my room wasn't far from being described as a nuclear waste land. It wasn't that I was a slob (I mean come on, I had to clean Antonio's damn house when I was kid, why do people always forget that?), but it was just that I was away so much that things just seemed to accumulate.

That only meant that I now had to dig through huge fucking piles of clothes and overturned suitcases.

_Great_.

Just what my hangover needed.

I was working on motivating myself to get up (yeah, like that was happening) when the door downstairs slammed open loudly. This was followed by frantic feet running up the stairs. Feliciano (I knew it was him because the idiot always forgot to close the front door, plus he was the only one with a key…) had enough sense to tiptoe past my room, but it didn't put me in a better mood.

I struggled to sit up in bed and listened to Feliciano as he banged drawers open and shut in his room. Okay, on a normal basis I had no idea what was running through my brother's mind, but today I honestly had no fucking clue.

From the noise alone it sounded like he was packing, but that didn't make sense. We were staying in Caltagirone this year for Christmas, because it was my turn to pick, and we hadn't been down here together in centuries. So where in the world did Feliciano think he was going?

My heart sank into my stomach when a horrible realization dawned on me.

Feliciano snuck past my room again, his duffle bag bumping into the wall every couple of feet, and carefully walked down the stairs, stopping every time that they made a noise. There would only be one place that he'd go this time of year, and personally I was appalled at it.

The little fucker was off to Germany's.

Well, shit.

There was no denying it any longer.

Now that I thought about it, he had been giving me subtle signs all week. He had kept sighing and gazing at the clock, or a calendar, or his phone. I guess all his subconscious unhappiness had finally gotten to me.

And that would explain why I had tried drowning my sorrows last night at the Christmas party for no apparent reason (And HA! I remembered something!).

I was jerked out of my thoughts when this time the front door slammed shut, and that was the last straw.

With a less then graceful lurch, I stumbled out of bed and wobbled over to the window. It took far longer than normal to open the damn thing, but once it was I saw that Feliciano was loading his suitcase into the back of taxi.

He hadn't seen me yet, but that was about to change. I sucked in a deep breath and yelled out as loud as possible, "HEY FUCKER! Where the hell are you going?!"

At least twelve people turned to give me weird looks, but I wasn't all that concerned right now. Feliciano froze and _very _hesitantly turned around. His eyes were wide in either shock or fear, but it was probably both, because I am pretty damn terrifying when I'm mad.

"Um, morning Lovi~!" He called up, trying his damnedest to hide his nervous fidgeting from me, but I could see it from where I was standing anyway. I scowled, "Don't _'morning Lovi'_ me! Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Feliciano muttered something I couldn't hear. His arms were crossed defensively in front of his chest and he was probably going to stare a hole through the pavement any second now.

"Can't hear you!" I winced as my head exploded in pain from all the yelling. GOD. DAMN. ALCOHOL.

He looked up shyly, beginning to worry his bottom lip with his teeth. From somewhere deep within, Feliciano was somehow able to summon what little courage he had and managed to squeak out, "Germany's."

"Tch, bastard." I muttered, jerking my head to the side so my profile was partially hidden by my bangs. It didn't matter that I had assumed where he was going, it still hurt to actually hear it from him, and I wasn't about to let him see me cry over it. Which I was fucking **not** doing!

"I'm sorry!" Feliciano screeched out, taking a few steps forward, "It's just that I miss him, and it's _Christmas _Lovi! What am I supposed to do?"

Now it looked like _he _was on the verge of tears.

"Besides," He croaked out, "who knows how long I'll have to wait till next time?"

I mulled over what he had said. On the one hand he was completely and utterly blowing me off and that was really shitty of him, but on the _other _hand I understood where he was coming from. It was only natural that he feared _Operation Impeding Doom_ as much as, but probably more so, than I did.

It did mean the end of all times after all.

While I had been thinking, it had lapsed into a very awkward silence. Feliciano was looking to me for approval, and I realized that whatever I said would depend on whether he stayed or not. I was about to snap that of course he couldn't go, but reconsidered after seeing that absolutely desperate look in his eyes.

"Don't catch any stupid fucking potato disease or something while you're there, idiot. I'll see you on New Year's." And with a final huff, I slammed the window shut. I waited until I heard the sound of the taxi driving off before risking a peak out the window.

It was a nasty cloudy day and it reflected my mood near perfectly, which brought up the speculation that our country's weather reflected our current feelings. It was still up in the air though, no one had been able to prove it as of yet, but I was starting to lean towards the assumption that it was true.

Anyway, it was getting later into the afternoon, and now that Feliciano had left it basically blew all our plans for the holiday, so that left me with the entire day free. Normally that would have been a problem as I don't do boredom well, but I still hadn't figured out whether France had sex with a cactus or not last night.

Now _that _took precedence, but first, I had to find my laptop.

After digging through mounds of things and turning my room only short of upside down, I still hadn't found the fucking thing. "Shit." I swore as kicked though another pile of clothes. Since it wasn't in my room that meant that my brother had taken it, and it was now somewhere downstairs.

Before heading down I threw on some sweat pants because it was going to be cold in the kitchen, and yes, I do only sleep in my boxers. _Italian, duh._

I wandered down the stairs and into the small living slash kitchen combo room, and low and behold there was my oh-so lovely laptop sitting on top of the breakfast bar.

It wasn't fancy, and I'm surprised it is still working considering I've dropped it down the stairs at least three times and practically submerged it in tomato sauce more times than I can count. Besides all the nicks and scrapes, there was also a long swipe of yellow paint across the top.

That had been courtsey of Spain.

For some strange reason he had decided that he was going to paint his room yellow, okay that wasn't weird since the man is made of like tomatoes and sunshine, but what was strange was the fact that he wanted my help. Things had been going fine until the retard thought it'd be '_cute'_ if I was yellow too.

What had started out as a harmless painting job turned into a full blown paint war. My poor laptop had just been an innocent by stander to the whole thing.

Well the thing still worked (to some degree), and that was good enough for me. I drummed my fingers against the counter-top while I waited for Windows to finish starting up, and prayed that it didn't crash this time. It didn't, and soon I was opening a tab for the internet.

Facebook is largely debated about whether or not it's a waste of time. I can fully attest to the fact that it is a colossal waste of time, but it has its uses. Like being a wonderful place for blackmail. Key point being Hungary's page, and it was the _only_ reason I was friends with her.

She didn't disappoint either.

Her page was littered with photos from last night's ill-fated Christmas party and it looked like Elizabeta had captured every significant part of the evening.

There was Prussia break dancing along with his brother who must have really been drunk to actually do it. In about seven pictures you could see America running through the background in only his underpants, an American flag acting as a cape, and a lampshade on his head.

That had been after he had challenged Russia to a drinking contest (oh precious, precious returning memories), so it qualified as a sort of excuse because Russia is Russia and on any known occasion I've seen the man chug about ten vodka bottles no problem.

I could feel the evil smirk play across my face as I scrolled on through the photographic mayhem, which only got worse the further I went. This was fantastic. There was enough evidence here to last a whole fucking year.

Score!

I was getting ready to print off several, and was completely relived to find no pictures containing France and cactus action, but then I came across one I was certainly not expecting and my jaw hit the floor.

Okay, we've already established that I'm not a heavy drinker, so it would make sense that I wouldn't remember much from last night. Well might as well turn that _'much' _into a whole fucking lot.

Since when did we go to a bar?

And since when did the (possibly illusionary) bar have _karaoke? _

And where in the name of all things holy and fucking decent did my shirt go?!

_AND WHY THE HELL WAS FELICIANO GOING ALONG WITH IT?! _

Yes, to my immense shame, that picture I was looking at was one of me and my god damned airheaded brother. Both of us were standing on a table, sans shirts, and had our heads thrown back in either laughter or passionate singing, and judging by the comments it had been the latter.

_[__**Elizabeta Héderváry**__: Daww :) Look how cute the Italy Bros are~!  
4 hours ago- 23 people like this _

_**Francis Bonnefoy:**__ Mon Dieu, don't I know it?  
4 hours ago- Like_

_**Antonio F. Carriedo:**__ Eh?! Lovi? When did this happen? And where's your shirt amigo?  
3 hours ago- Like_

_**Francis Bonnefoy:**__ Geeze, Toni stop being so oblivious.  
3 hours ago- 34 people like this _

_**Tino Väinämöinen:**__ Oh my God, Lovino I'm so sorry! I didn't know you two were that drunk! Please don't un-friend me…again!  
3 hours ago- 6 people like this _

_**Alfred F(ucking awesome) Jones:**__ HAHAHAHA, Dood that's sooooo funny! :D  
3 hours ago- 10 people like this _

_**Gilbert 'The Real Fucking Awesome' Beilschmidt:**__ Holy shit XD I didn't know my bro's…uh…beau (?) had it in him. GO FELI!  
2 hours ago- 8 people like this _

_**Kiku Honda:**__ What were they singing anyway?  
2 hours ago- Like_

_**Tino Väinämöinen:**__ TT_TT Abba stuff…namely Dancing Queen…  
2 hours ago- Like_

_**Kiku Hond**__a: And why does that upset you?  
2 hours ago- Like_

_**Tino Väinämöinen:**__ Because I suggested it…and it sorta snowballed ^_^' Whoops.  
2 hours ago- Like _

_**Feliciano Vargas:**__ Hehe, thanks Gilbert~!  
1 hour ago- Like_

_**Elizabeta Héderváry:**__ Hey did anyone get this on tape?  
1 hour ago- Like_

_**Matthias Køhler:**__ I did~!  
1 hour ago- 39 people like this_

_**Elizabeta Héderváry:**__ OMG! E-MAIL ME NOW!  
45 minutes ago- Like ] _

My head met the granite surface of the counter top as I let out a moan. "I. Hate. My. Life." I ground out, while continuing to bang my head onto the breakfast bar.

Which does nothing to help hangovers headaches BTW.

I only realized that later when I actually had to think critically because my life was (and still is) circling the drain, but couldn't _because_ it felt like my head had been fucking MICROWAVED. Thanks a lot past me, you real son of a bitch.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself, and this story is already long enough, and I just don't feel like typing. So I'm ending it here, for now at least, because by no means is this over. We haven't even gotten to the real dip-shittery yet.

Ci vediamo più tardi bastardi,

~Romano

* * *

_Well..._

_that took forever to wright. _

_I hope you enjoyed, the rest has yet to come. _

_~Anna_


End file.
